


Unexpected

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Peter panics over fire, Polyamory Negotiations, Stetopher Week 2019, mentions of Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 14:57:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Even in the dim light, Peter can see Stiles’s cheeks pink up. “He was watching you,” comes Chris’s voice in his ear. “He has a crush.”Peter can feel his brow furrow. “Oh? But I thought you two were together?”Chris chuckles against his neck. “We are. But baby has a thing for older men who have pretty blue eyes.” He doesn’t sound the least bit upset about it, and Peter cranes his neck and turns to find Chris grinning.Interesting.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a random lil thing I threw together for Stetopher week, fuelled by delicious gift wine.  
It's for the prompt "bonfire."

He's not expecting it, any of it.

Not the sharp tang of gasoline.

Not the sound of a match.

And not the sudden _whump_ as the flames catch, spiralling high and sending out a wall of heat that presses at his back, just like -

Peter _snarls, _sees red, and his fangs drop as his wolf whines in panic, because last time - last time –

He's short of breath, frozen in fear, when he hears it. “Shhh, Peter, it’s okay. You’re here. It’s just a bonfire, look at me okay?” Wide brown eyes peer at him and hands rest on his shoulders, calming him, grounding him. “Deep breaths, that’s it, you’re fine.”

Peter’s not fine, he’s still shaking, but it’s better, with Stiles where he can see him, reminding him that this isn’t ten years ago, it’s not the same fire that claimed his family, it’s a bonfire, that’s all. He knew that, he did. He takes one shuddery breath, and then another.

He dimly hears a voice calling, “McCall, why the _hell_ would you use gasoline to start that thing – Don’t you _think?_” And then there’s someone bracketing him from behind, warm muscled arms wrapped around him, the weight of the body pressing him closer to Stiles as Chris Argent's deep voice says, “Easy, Peter. We’ve got you. We’re gonna move away from the flames, okay?”

Peter blinks, nods- he can't speak. His vision’s still red, his fangs are out, but neither Stiles or Chris seem concerned, instead steering him forward, still sandwiched between them, shuffling further from the noise and the sparks and the heat. “Fucking Scott,” Stiles mutters, and Chris huffs out a noise of agreement. 

They’re finally far enough away that Peter can take a proper breath, but neither man makes any move to let go, instead keeping him cradled between them and as the minutes tick by, the dread in his gut eases and he feels himself relax. He’s mortified at being caught out in a moment of weakness, but he was facing the wrong direction, away from the fire, had no warning - the flames were unexpected, and the smells and the sounds brought everything back.

Peter’s chin is resting on Stiles’s collarbone, and he has no idea when that happened, or why he’s so reluctant to move. He does move though, straightens up a little and attempts to salvage his dignity. He can’t explain, and won’t apologise, so he settles for, “That was – thank you.”

Stiles shrugs. “I get it. Some things just leave their mark.” He looks Peter straight in the eyes. “There was a fly trapped in my curtains once, buzzing and buzzing and it_ just wouldn’t stop_. I was crying in the corner when my Dad came home.”

Peter feels a sympathetic twist in his gut at that. Of course Stiles has his own demons. They share a look, and Stiles’s smile is slightly lopsided when he says, “I swear I didn’t know Scott was going to light it yet, or I would have warned you beforehand, made sure you were okay.”

“You were right there, though. How did you even know?” because Stiles was there in seconds, and Peter’s recovered enough for his curiosity to kick in.

Even in the dim light, Peter can see Stiles’s cheeks pink up. “He was watching you,” comes Chris’s voice in his ear. “He has a crush.”

Peter can feel his brow furrow. “Oh? I thought you two were together?”

Chris chuckles against his neck. “We are. But baby has a thing for older men who have pretty blue eyes.” He doesn’t sound the least bit upset about it, and Peter cranes his neck and turns to find Chris grinning.

Interesting.

His earlier panic is replaced with something else - something primal, hungry. “And why are _you _here again?”

Chris’s teeth gleam in the firelight. “Truth is, we’ve both been watching you for a while. Baby’s not the only one who has a thing for those pretty blue eyes.”

Peter’s eyebrows hit his hairline and he shrugs his way out of their grip so he can face them both. He looks from one to the other, arms folded in a way he knows shows off his chest and arm muscles, because he’s not above exploiting his assets. “What exactly are you saying, Christopher?”

Chris’s smile widens. “I’m saying that three’s not always a crowd. Interested?”

And Peter is. He won’t lie – he’s always found Chris tempting. Stiles too, in a completely different way. But when they paired up, he assumed he’d left it too late, and he wasn’t _quite_ enough of an asshole to break them up. Now, it sounds like maybe he wasn’t too late after all.

It’s Stiles who speaks next. “Maybe we should go and talk about this somewhere else?” He’s still blushing, but there’s determination in his eyes.

Peter looks between two expectant faces and nods. “We should. I don’t think they’ll miss us.” Peter glances across at the rest of the pack who are gathered around the bonfire, oblivious to his near descent into panic and subsequent rescue – all except Derek, who’s watching them carefully. Peter gives him a tiny nod, and Derek visibly relaxes.

Peter moves so he’s leaning back against Chris’s chest, a thrill running through him when Chris snakes a hand around his belly and holds him in place. Peter puts a hand under Stiles’ chin and tilts it up, holding his gaze. “And while Chris’s blue eyes are certainly pretty, and I can’t wait to see what he’s hiding under that denim, he doesn’t have that sinful, kissable mouth.” With that, Peter leans in and presses a soft, barely-there kiss to Stiles’s lips.

Stiles’s breath catches on a moan and Chris lets out a low chuckle, saying “Well, what are we waiting for?”


End file.
